


Sterek Drabbles August 2018

by Jmeelee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: 14 Sterek drabbles based on the prompts from SterekDrabbles on Tumblr.





	Sterek Drabbles August 2018

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to everyone at [Sterek Drabbles](https://sterekdrabbles.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, and especially [smowkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smowkie/pseuds/Smowkie%20drabbles) and [rieraclaelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rieraclaelin/pseuds/rieraclaelin). Check it out and join in the fun!

**Bottle, Massage, Snuggle** (8/1/2018)

The moles dotting the man’s face and neck had Derek fantasizing about tracing a path between them with his tongue. The obscenely long fingers playing along the neck of a beer bottle made him think of.. _other_ things. He massaged the back of his heated neck with a cool hand.

“You stink,” Laura complained, wrinkling her nose. “Go get his number before the pheromones choke me out.” She roughly pushed Derek out of their booth at the back of the bar before he could snuggle down further in the vinyl seat and talk himself out of approaching the handsome stranger.

 

 **Hook, Credibility, Pumpkin** (8/3/2018)

Derek wakes to the pitter patter of tiny feet and glowing amber eyes in the moonlight.

“What is it, pumpkin?” He asks, groggily. “Bad dreams?” Their daughter nods. He hooks an arm around her tiny waist and lifts her into bed, placing her between himself and Stiles.

“You’ll spoil her,” his husband mumbles. “Gonna lose all your tough guy credibility. Men who wear leather jackets don’t snuggle babies.” Derek can hear the smile in Stiles’ voice.

“Some do.” Derek watches his daughter’s face relax into sleep, feeling more content than he ever thought the universe would allow him to be.

 

 **Halt, Disaster, Height** (8/6/2018)

“This is…” Stiles said, speech halting, “this is some good fucking weed!” He proceeded to devolve into high-pitched giggles.

“A disaster, is what it is,” Derek huffed, not budging an inch to help when Stiles rolled off the couch.

“This shit has me flying,” he said from the floor. “I’m soaring to great heights, dude! I’m a bird.”

“You’re a menace,” Derek replied, walking into the kitchen. He returned ten seconds later with an opened box of Cookie Crisp cereal.

Stiles moaned in gratitude, snatched the box from Derek’s outstretched hands and inhaled a fistful of sugary goodness. “My hero!”

 

  
**Guilt, Mislead, Horrible** (8/8/2018)

The granite headstone sits soaking up the sun’s rays, misleading him to believe it will be warm, but when he reaches out, his fingers trace carved letters that are ice cold: _Beloved Mother_.

 _This was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad idea_ , Stiles thinks, tears he’s trying desperately to hold back sliding down his cheeks.

“I killed a man,” he tells her, relief and anger twisting up his guts.

“She’d understand,” Derek says.

“No,” he whispers, defeated.

A warm hand squeezes his shoulder. “Yes, she _would_.” Amazingly, the soft vehemence in Derek’s voice makes some of Stiles’ guilt fade away.

 

 **Unicorn, Belly, Moment** (8/10/2018)

“Everyone knows the unicorn emoji is universal for hookups,” Stiles informs Derek, whose caterpillar eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead. “It’s the horn.”

Derek’s eyes roll. “That makes no sense; they symbolize innocence. We should use the eggplant emoji.”

“Too obvious,” Stiles snarks. “Text me one unicorn for handjob, two for blowjob, and three for sex. Okay?” His phone chimes a moment later, with four unicorns sent from Derek’s number. “What the hell does four mean?”

Derek smiles with a hint of fang, igniting a spark in Stiles’ belly. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

 

 **Door, Well, Strong** (8/13/2018)

Paige’s death was a catalyst, ripping open a doorway to an alternate dimension. Stiles and Derek stood together in the Nemeton’s root cellar, as a shadowy creature chittered and growled beyond the vale.  
  
“What if I’m not strong enough? What if I can’t do this?” Stiles gasped.

“You are. And if you can’t, well… At least I’ll have done this once.” Derek leaned forward, brushing his mouth gently against Stiles’. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a _promise_.

Stiles turned toward the glowing gate, raised his hands and summoned the magic inside him. The monster let loose a shattering scream.

 

 **Pack, Polite, Keep** (8/15/2018)

“There’ll be no free passage,” Derek barks as they scale the side of his ship. Stiles lands on the weathered boards of the main deck in a disastrous heap. “You’ll earn your keep.”

The crew bustles around them, readying to make sail. This pack of thieves is a far cry from the polite company of Commander McCall’s drawing room, and Stiles feels like he can breathe for the first time since his father’s death. The sails snap in their tethers, white cloth stained yellow in the moonlight as he turns toward Derek, smiling like a fool at his ill-gotten freedom.

This is a small continuation of my smutty pirate PWP [Devil’s and Blacksheep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561580) :-)

 

 **Proud, Leader, Retain** (8/17/2018)

Derek retained his powerful physique over the years, but lately, sporadic spots of gray had cropped up in his beard and at his temples. Stiles stilled, toothbrush halfway to his mouth, and watched Derek rub the white whiskers, a distracted smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Did your dad go gray early?” Stiles quietly inquired, reluctant to pull Derek from fond memories.

“My mom. She claimed the more you had, the better leader you were.”

Stiles smiled at him in the mirror. “She would have been proud of you, Silverwolf.”

Then Derek kissed him, bad breath and all.

 

 **Spite, Spend, Sunday** (8/20/2018)  
  
“This isn’t how I anticipated spending my Friday night,” Stiles gasped as the Kanima prowled the pool edge. His legs burned from treading water; his shoulders and back were on fire. Despite Stiles’ best efforts, Derek’s mouth kept dipping below the water line. With Scott MIA, the first people who’d find their waterlogged corpses would be the swim team at Sunday’s meet. Stiles desperately wanted to avoid that fate. But no matter how loudly his body screamed at him to drop Derek and save himself, he just… couldn’t. His arms cried _let go_ , but strangely, his heart whispered _hold on_.

 

 **Brag, Handy, Dinner** (8/22/2018)

Their typical good-natured ribbing turned fiery in the hallway, and now that they’d moved inside Stiles’ room, the heat was on full blast.

“We could bang,” Stiles whispered, hand slipping into Derek’s boxers. “That could totally be a thing we do.”

“Doesn’t a hotel hookup seem…”

“Hot. The word you’re looking for is _hot_.”

“Cheap” Derek laughed, kicking off his underwear.

Stiles dropped to his knees. “I’ll buy you dinner after.”

“It’s two a.m.”

“Breakfast, then.” He winked up at Derek. “Not to brag but, you’re _really_ going to enjoy this.” Finally, Stiles’ big mouth was coming in handy.

 

 **Clinic, Guitar, Pyramid** (8/24/2018)

  
It’s frustrating, realizing that in the supernatural hierarchy, humans are the bottom of the pyramid, of little consequence unless they serve some purpose like CUTTING OFF A FUCKING ARM WHAT THE HELL?! Derek’s impossible demand plucks at Stiles’ last nerve like a guitar string.

“Just do it!” Derek dictates, black bile dripping off his chiseled jaw.

Stiles picks up the saw, places it against Derek’s arm with a clear lack of clinical efficiency. Derek’s disregard chafes at Stiles, for more reasons than one, and he vows, if Derek survives the amputation, he’ll prove exactly how useful a human can be.

 

 **Patient, Crouch, Dark** (8/27/2018)

It chafes at Stiles’ patience, crouching down in the small dark space unable to fidget, but there’s no better spot in a house full of werewolves. The linen closet is just outside the second floor bathroom, upwind from the central air vent, and he hasn’t been found for sixteen straight games. There is only one other person who knows about this spot, and she’d never tell.

The door flings open and Stiles tumbles into the hallway in an ungraceful heap. Their daughter looks up at Derek with a mischievous grin. “Told you he’d be here.” _Rude_.

So much for loyalty.

 

 **Defend, Wound, Fit** (8/29/2018)

Jennifer had seen him as a necessary evil she could manipulate. Kate had seen a young man she could destroy as she burned through the ranks of her vile family wearing the ashes of his own. What Paige had seen he’ll never know, the uncertainty remaining an open wound after all this time. On the bad days, they’re enough to make him believe he isn’t fit for love.

But despite the defenses he’s built up behind a wall of dead lovers, of one thing he is certain. When Stiles _looks_ , he sees Derek Hale.

And that makes all the difference.

 

 **Sugar, Alley, Heat** (8/31/2018)

Later, Stiles will laugh himself silly remembering his ruddy cheeks and racing heartbeat as he’d babbled and blustered his way through requesting Derek join him for his next heat. But not now. Now, the burnt sugar smell of his own slick, combined with the salty sweat of Derek’s skin, permeates the damp air of the bedroom, clogging his lungs and addling his brain. Now, every catch of Derek’s knot against his rim punches a guttural moan from Stiles’ throat, his body dancing down that exquisitely thin alley between pleasure and pain. Later, he’ll make Derek _his_. Now, he’ll just enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm [Jamie!](http://jmeelee.tumblr.com/)


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